


you were a vision in the morning

by cherryvanilla



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Sex, Feelings, First Time, Future Fic, Getting Together, Intimacy, M/M, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-18 17:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16521605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: Dean has been watching Sam’s profile in repose for as long as he can remember.





	you were a vision in the morning

**Author's Note:**

> I have a random obsession with wincest fics that begin the morning after their first time and have consumed the ones -- albeit few -- which exist. In my desire for more I ended up writing a little something of my own. This is set sometime in the indeterminable future, when things have calmed down some. Hope you enjoy <3
> 
> Title by Halsey.

Dean has been watching Sam’s profile in repose for as long as he can remember. Baby Sammy in his crib, who wouldn’t stop crying until Dean waved his favorite rattle in front of his face until he finally fell asleep; young Sammy on long car rides, drooling against the window pane and out like a light; Pre-teen Sammy who slept in the same hotel bed with Dean before Dad finally decided they were both too old for that; teenage Sammy, asleep in the bed furthest from the door while Dean kept a watchful eye on him, their Dad off on a hunt; adult Sam, so different yet still so the same, back on the road together searching for Dad while Dean listened to his brother’s nightmares; Sam at 30, Dean watching him sleep fitfully in the bunker during the trials and scared to death. 

Sam fast asleep, cheek mashed against a pillow, is a sight as familiar to Dean as the Impala. Dean knows what Sam looks like when he’s resting easy or filled with sorrow and pain. He knows what Sam looks like when he's drunk as a skunk and passed out. Hell, he even knows what Sam looks like sated with pleasure, having spied him and Piper that time in the backseat, while a dark current of jealousy seeped into his own veins. But Dean's never before witnessed Sam as he is right now: sated with pleasure that _he_ put there, while the two of them share the same pillow for the first time since they were kids bundled together on hotel beds. 

Now, they’re in the closest place they’ve ever had to a home since the Impala, tucked away in Dean’s room. When they’d started this a few hours ago — this irrevocable event, that would alter the rest of their lives in one way or another — Sam had panted out, “Your room. Bigger bed.”

Dean had been too flummoxed to so much as smirk; he'd merely responded, “Oh fuck, yes,” and hauled his little brother down the interminable corridor separating their rooms, shattering the remaining distance. 

His dick stirs at the memory. Sam shifts in his sleep at the same time, a slight sigh escaping. Dean recalled similar sighs last night, high and breathy, exhaled against his lips and skin. 

He had no idea what to do once they’d gotten started, more nervous than when he was a virgin. It seemed inconceivable, making this move now after everything they’ve been through. Dean isn’t so self-diluted to deny he’s wanted this forever, but he’d honestly never planned to act on it. His own twisted desire was his to bear and his alone, something he’d never planned on sharing with his brother. It didn’t matter if Sam sometimes looked sideways at him in a way that caused Dean’s breath catch in his chest. It didn’t matter if other people constantly thought they were a couple or those who knew them spoke as if they actually were. 

Wanting Sam, loving him, it was purely part of Dean's core. He isn’t even sure what finally lead them to this, the evening’s events a blur, reduced to mere flashes of skin and gasps of pleasure. 

There was a hunt, he thinks. There’s always a hunt. But this one had felt highly fraught. As if they absolutely could've lost one another, which was a rarity nowadays. Dean recalls Sam cupping his face, bandaging his wounds, and thinking to himself: “that’s my job.” It is possible he’d announced it aloud because now he remembers Sam’s exasperated, “And what do you think my job is?” before he'd bent in closer to touch his forehead to Dean's. Afterward, there was a rapid succession of shallow breaths, until they were breathing into one another's mouths instead. 

Dean lowers his gaze to Sam’s lips now, taking in how full they look. 

_I did that,_ Dean thinks. _I kissed and sucked and bit at my brother’s lips until they were red and swollen._

The shudder that courses through him is packed with far more lust than self-aimed disgust. Particularly when he thinks about the _other_ thing Sam’s mouth had gotten up to last night. The sheer knowledge of that, the _memory_ , shouldn’t make Dean so fucking hot, but he can’t help the groan that slips past his lips. Sam stirs again and the one eye that Dean can see gradually opens, lit only by the dim yellow of bedside light they’d never managed to turn off.

“Hey,” Sam says. His voice is raspy, deep with sleep and — _sweet Jesus fuck_ — overuse, but the fondness in that one word still shines through. It tightens around Dean’s heart like a vice. 

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean replies. He aims for normal and knows he’s failed the second Sam's one visible eyebrow curves downward. 

“You okay?” Sam murmurs the words into the space between them as though Dean’s a spooked dog in need of calming. 

Dean’s ready to deflect; crack a joke, brush it off, or just put on a stoic face. In the end, he surprises them both by saying, “I honestly don’t know.”

There’s a flash of hurt through Sam’s surprise, but also appreciation, like he knows how much that little give took. 

He swallows, and Dean observes his Adam’s Apple in fascination. It's Sam's too quiet and controlled “Second thoughts?” that causes Dean's gaze jerk upward again. 

“ _No_ ,” Dean responds, body rejecting the notion almost violently. “That’s uh, kinda the problem, man.”

Sam huffs out a breath, his face smoothing into a faint smile. His foot grazes Dean’s own, a slow drag up his ankle. Dean hadn’t realized how close they were until this moment — too focused on watching Sam sleep — and that it would take only a few minute shifts to bring their bodies flush together. 

“Not a problem in my book.” Sam’s voice can solely be defined as sexy as he raises one hand to trail his fingertips along the side of Dean’s neck. Dean would've laughed in his face if he’d witnessed that move from afar, but instead, he’s shocked into speechlessness once more. This is Sam, his baby brother, and he's _flirting_ with Dean after having provided the two greatest orgasms of Dean's life. 

“Christ, Sammy,” Dean manages to choke out, his dick now standing at attention. Part of him, he recognizes now, was worried how they’d deal with this in the light of day. But Sam seems to be dealing just fine, grinning like a cat who got the cream while Dean’s the one shivering into his addictive touch. 

_This is my role_ , Dean thinks begrudging. _I'm supposed to be the suave one after sex_. 

He's ready to say as much when Sam moves in slowly, brushing his lips against Dean’s jaw. “Last night was incredible.” 

Dean groans loudly, so fucking turned on, and grabs a fist full of Sam’s hair. He shifts onto his back, ignoring the slight twinge in his ass while simultaneously revved up at the memory of why. Sam follows, settling over and propping himself up on one elbow. 

“My going rate is 500 bucks a night, Stud,” Dean says dryly, carding his fingers through Sam’s stupidly attractive mane. 

Sam laughs, bright and brilliant. Dean can scarcely recall the last time he’s seen Sam look like that. Like he’s shed away the rest of that world-weary weight he’s constantly carrying. 

“Guess I’d better get my money’s worth, then,” Sam grins, before leaning down and pressing their lips together. It’s their first kiss since the conclusion of the prior evening’s two enthusiastic rounds. Sam’s breath is sour, and Dean’s isn’t much better, but for once he can’t be bothered to care about hygiene. He threads his fingers tighter in Sam’s hair, parting his lips and sliding his tongue into Sam's mouth.

Sam groans into it, kissing back hard and deep, with an intensity and precision Dean has never before experienced despite all of his — well — experience. Sam is a bonafide firecracker in bed, something Dean remembers commenting on last night, in between having his brains sucked out his dick and his ass rimmed with abandon. 

(“ _Fuck_ , who are you and what’ve you done with my lives-like-a-monk little brother?” 

Sam had paused in his task, placed a sucking kiss onto one cheek, and said: “Guess this is just a side of me you’ve never seen.” Then he'd gone back to tongue-fucking Dean until he screamed.)

The concept of there being things about Sam that Dean didn’t know is foreign. The fact that these things are intimate in nature and that Dean could potentially be embarking on the greatest sex of his life with his “sleeps with someone once every few years” baby brother is just… goddamn surreal.

Not that Dean’s own track record has been particularly impressive in that regard for a while now himself. After Lisa, after it barely being a question that he’d choose Sam over her any day of the week, Dean had taken a long, hard look at himself and realized that while his body might be available, his heart was taken. It’d been an exceedingly sappy revelation that required many tumblers of Jack to swallow down, but it was the truth, nonetheless. And now, years later, he’s making out with Sammy and freaking the fuck out from how _right_ it feels. 

“ _God_ ,” Sam gasps, tearing his mouth away from Dean’s lips only to latch onto his neck. "God, Dean, the things I want to do to you.”

“Yeah,” Dean gasps, arching his back as the tip of Sam’s tongue drags down his neck. “Everything. Goes both ways there, Sammy.”

He can’t wait to spread Sam out, map every inch of his body. He was too overwhelmed to do it last night, allowed Sam to take the wheel instead. Which was pretty mind-blowing in and of itself. He can’t wait to explore all of that further, too. Dean loves being held down, shoved around, and he has a pretty good feeling Sam will happily oblige.

The bunker is quiet, just the two of them for a while now, with the infrequent visitor. It feels good to have the place as their own again, for the dust to have settled as much as anything can in their world. They’ve taken a backseat lately, letting others step up and run the show. And now, with the commencement of this — thing — between them, Dean couldn’t be happier about that fact. He imagines them fooling around in the shower, in Sam’s precious library, in the garage, and it's any number of classic cars. In the _Impala_ , oh _god_. 

Dean rolls them over, pressing Sam into the mattress and groaning at just the thought of laying his brother out in the backseat or _Christ_ , getting bent over the hood. Sam moans beneath him and Dean has to pull back, has to _see_.

“What?” Sam asks breathlessly. "Dean?" His cheeks are rosy, and his hair is strewn all over his face. Dean’s heart feels like it might explode. 

“We’re doing this,” he says nonsensically. He can’t tell if it’s a question or a statement. 

Sam knows, though. He always seems to know. 

“Yeah,” he replies, voice once again thick and fond at the same time. It might be Dean's new favorite thing. “Yeah, we totally are doing this.” 

Then he’s hauling Dean down to claim his mouth, hot and all-consuming and so goddamn perfect. 

Dean has no idea what this means for them. If it’ll just be adding amazing sex to the equation or if it’ll shift their dynamic. He doesn’t know what to do about other people finding out. He wonders idly if Sam is going to want to go out on dates or start making a big deal about things like birthdays or anniversaries. 

He can’t wait to find out the answers. 

[end]


End file.
